


Sleep Without Nightmares

by indigo_carter



Series: Supernatural Fluff [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean love, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_carter/pseuds/indigo_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine: Imagine comforting Dean through a nightmare.<br/>Characters: Dean<br/>Author: Frankie (seducing-winchesters)<br/>Reader Gender: female<br/>Word Count: 1156<br/>Warnings: Mention of nightmares?<br/>A/N: Dean needed some love. So I wrote him some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Without Nightmares

_Sleep without nightmares, Dean._

***

Nightmares don’t always end with you waking up, screaming or crying. Sometimes nightmares pin you to your bed, gluing your eyes and throat shut, forcing you to live through the worst things your mind can throw at you until it’s done.

Those are the sorts of nightmares Dean has. Those are the sorts of nightmares Dean has always had.

***

You stirred restlessly on the twin-size bed in what felt like the millionth crappy motel room this hunt. It had dragged on for far longer than necessary and you found yourself pining for the luxury of feather pillows and a mattress which didn’t have springs poking out that insisted on locating themselves in the small of your back. Hauling yourself upright, you gazed across at the other bed. Sam was sprawled inelegantly across it, limbs half hanging off the edges, face buried in the less-than-sanitary pillowcase. You stifled a giggle, and peered into the gloom of the room to see if Dean was asleep on the couch. He was frozen, stiff as a board, chest barely rising, tears seeping from under closed lids. Sorrow hit you like a punch to the gut. Slithering from the bed, you crept over to kneel beside his head, the rasping gasps of his breath suddenly audible to you, and you shuddered. God knew what he was dreaming about, but it was clearly traumatic. Indecision rocked you. You desperately wanted to give him some form of comfort, but your gut told you that showing him any form of acknowledgement of his ‘weakness’ would do nothing but push him away. A pained moan made your mind up. Resting one hand on his forehead, you tangled the fingers of the other with his and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Shh, it’s ok, it’s ok now. Shh…” you mumbled nonsense into his skin, feeling the tension seep from him as you carded your fingers through his hair. He let out a quiet groan and wrapped his fingers around yours more securely. Your throat tightened and you blinked back tears as he wriggled until he was lying on his side facing you, his fingers still tenaciously gripping yours. And that was how you passed the rest of the night, Dean facing you with his hand holding yours, you sat on the floor by his head, leaning on the sofa. Morning found you with a cricked neck and Sam crouching in front of you holding a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Morning,” he whispered, offering you the cup. You took it gratefully, holding it carefully in the hand which wasn’t occupied by Dean, and sipped at the steaming brew. “Are you ok?” You glanced at Dean and then back at Sam.

“He had a bad night. I couldn’t sleep so I came to sit by him.” You matched his volume, watching the vapour rise from the surface of the coffee.

“Thank you.” He squeezed your shoulder and stood up. “I’m going to shower, do you need the bathroom?”

“I can wait.” You smiled up at him and took another sip. As the shower started running, Dean moved beside you, letting out a contented sigh and pulling his hand from yours.

“Y/N?” his voice was thick with sleep, and you peered up at him sheepishly over the rim of your coffee mug.

“Morning, Dean.” You smiled, trying to keep your voice light. His brow crinkled as he frowned.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?”

“Well you are taking up the entire couch, dummy.” You teased gently.

“I was holding your hand.” It was a statement, not a question, and you found yourself nodding guiltily. “Why was I holding your hand?” you swallowed hard before focussing on a scratch on the back of your forearm.

“You had a bad night last night. I didn’t want you to feel alone.” Dean let his eyes slide closed for a moment.

“I have a bad night every night, Y/N. Last night wasn’t special.” There was resignation in his tone, and your throat closed.

“Dean…” it came out strangled and you swallowed, hard.

“Last night was better than most.” He sounded pensive. “How long were you sat there?”

“Most of the night.” One of his hands slid through your tangled bird’s nest of hair, cupping the back of your skull and gently turning your head to look at him.

“Thank you.” It was murmured, and he ducked down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.” A blush burned its way up your neck and into your cheeks, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. “You’re so pretty when you blush. You’re always pretty, sweetheart.” Before you could react, another kiss landed, this time on the corner of your mouth. Your heart thundered in your chest, and you put your mug down on the floor beside you, your hands reaching for him. Just then, the shower shut off, and your hands fell to the sofa. Much to your surprise, Dean ducked forwards once more and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and gently kissed back. As the bathroom door opened, Dean pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “We’ll come back to this, I promise.” You nodded, rising to your feet as Sam emerged from the bathroom on a cloud of steam.

The day which followed was tedious. In the end, the three of you split up – Sam to the library, Dean to the church, and you to the bereaved family. By evening, none of you had made much progress, and Sam insisted you took a break from research.

“I don’t think we’re going to make any more headway here. I need the bunker’s library, Dean needs a bed, and Y/N needs…”

“Y/N needs,” you interrupted, “a hot bath, a bottle of wine, and some quality time in front of the TV.” Sam grinned and Dean rested a hand on your hip, whispering into your ear.  
“Can I join in?” The heat of his breath fanning over your skin had you shivering into goosebumps and you nodded at him.

“Obviously,” you replied under your breath. Sam pulled a face and gestured around the room.

“Are we packing then?” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from Dean.

“I’m all done, it’s just you two mucky pups left!” You lifted your duffle onto your shoulder and scooped up baby’s key from the table. “I’ll go wait in the car.” Slinging your bag into the trunk and slamming it closed, you pushed the key into the ignition and slid into the back seat, the smell of leather and the musk of Dean which seemed intrinsically part of the car washing over you, anticipation coiling in your stomach. Not much more than fifteen minutes later the boys joined you. Settling back into the seat, you readied yourself for the six hour drive home.


End file.
